


you can coax the cold right out of me

by loveontherocks



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Bottom Zayn, Frat Boy Liam, M/M, Uni AU, excessively studious Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveontherocks/pseuds/loveontherocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Give me a week.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Zayn raises his eyebrows. “What?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Give me a week,” Liam repeats. “Seven days. Just come hang out with us and let me show you what we do. Please? If by the end you still hate us and everything we stand for, then I won't stand in the way of your petition. Just let me show you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“A week?” Zayn asks. “That's it?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>It's a good argument. Seven days and he can meander around hungover college kids and make a list of all the reasons Greek Row shouldn't continue.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Nodding, Liam reaches out his hand to touch Zayn's arm. Zayn doesn't brush Liam off. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Alright, fine. One week, Liam. And I'm not easily amazed, so I hope you've got something interesting to show me.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Laughing, Liam rescinds his hand from Zayn's forearm and shakes his head. “I think you underestimate us, honestly. But just you wait.” </i>
</p><p>or; zayn drafts a petition to shut down the frat houses, but liam convinces him not to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can coax the cold right out of me

**Author's Note:**

> hey! it's been forever, and i'm kind of amazed at how quickly i wrote this! it's a little bitty fic, but i really hope you enjoy it. the prompt came from an anon asking for frat boy liam and zayn with his petition to shut it down, so i hope i did it justice. 
> 
> the title comes from troye's "BITE".
> 
> thanks to @englandziam and @zipplekink for the beta work! as always, i own nothing, and all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> please enjoy!

monday.

There's a gentle silence blanketing the library. Zayn tucks his ear buds in, clicks play on his phone, and shoves his nose into his art history textbook. He's got a five chapters to read as an assignment, and then an essay, twenty pages, single spaced, on a topic he hasn't chosen yet, all due by eight am the following Monday morning.

The music doesn't help much with his headache, but neither does the tea. He's behind on sleep, and it's mostly because the fraternities (and sororities) aren't kind enough to respect the fact that it was three am and they were still blasting some gaudy, top forty, techno remix music, while the rest of the campus was trying to sleep. Zayn's a junior now; he should be used to it, but it's hard when he takes his sleep so seriously and he hasn't really slept properly in two years.

There's a loud smack that jolts him from the attention of his text book. Looking up, Zayn, in all his annoyance, sees the one person he doesn't have the patience for.

“Mate, what the hell is this?”

In short, Liam Payne is the president of one of the ten fraternities they have on campus. Besides the fact that he's extremely attractive, he doesn't really have anything going for him. Of course, that's a quick judgement to make since Zayn doesn't know him well enough to make _any_ sort of judgement, but it's not like Liam and his group of beer drinking, possibly delinquent, juvenile hoard of friends could do anything that would make them appealing to Zayn.

It's not a surprise that Zayn sees a copy of his petition to shut down Greek row staring back at him when he looks down on the table. Zayn takes off his ear buds and sets his phone on the chair beside him.

“It's a petition. If it gets enough signatures, it can be considered for action to take place. Then you and your _bros_ will have to find somewhere else to be loud at three in the morning.”

Frowning, Liam leans against the table, both of his palms holding up his weight. Zayn doesn't look at the bulge of Liam's biceps or the way the muscle of Liam's jaw tenses. He doesn't.

"Zayn, you can't just shut it down because you don't like it. That's not fair to those of us--it matters to us." Liam doesn't look happy, but Zayn notices it has to do with the fact that Liam's sad. Which is unprecedented; it's just a club for guys to make dick jokes and talk about cliché alpha male subjects, all while getting black out drunk and puking in bushes.

The only response Zayn has is to shrug his shoulders.

“You'd be livid if they tried to shut down the arts department,” Liam argues, his eyes glittering dark.

“Because the arts program is beneficial to—“

“You don’t think we’re beneficial?” Liam asks, standing up straight and crossing him arms over his chest. Liam's smile grows into a grin, gleaming white teeth and—

Liam is probably, most likely, somewhere at the top of the most handsome men on campus, and Zayn hates the way he's distracted at the way Liam smiles at him.

“No, frankly, I don't. Hence the petition. The entire row of houses is rowdy and unnecessarily crass—“

Liam laughs. He laughs, and Zayn didn't feel much more than annoyance and the weight of absolute indifference, but aside from his body's blatant attraction to Liam, he feels a bit of anger now, boiling inside of him, rising hot from the pit of his stomach. Zayn shuts his textbook and stands up. He knows he's nowhere near menacing, but—

“Don't patronize me, Liam. It's just a petition.”

“A petition to have everything shut down. You don't even understand it and you want to shut it down. That's not fair.”

“Believe me, Liam, I know exactly what's unfair. Unfair is being constantly disturbed and woken up despite the fact that there are loads of people who came to college to study and pass their exams so they can get _degrees_. Believe it or not, that’s why people pay money to come here. I'm sorry if I'm _ruining_ your _vibe_ , but the parties have to stop, Liam. You can't honestly think, with noise that's constant all through the night, people don't look at your little group of houses with disdain. We're tired, Liam.” Zayn mirrors Liam's body language, crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Liam, willing for him to understand.

“Why don't you just file for a noise ordinance? These houses mean a lot to these kids, Zayn. You can't just start drawing up petitions to get rid of generations of traditions,” Liam tries. “These houses _save_ some of these kids.”

“It's already out there. Guess you better start hoping people don't sign them,” Zayn says. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore, gathering his books from the table and taking his almost-cold tea. “Bye Liam.”

The air is starting to acquire that chill that makes him feel like any reason to go outside isn't good enough. But there's still a little bit of that anger, just enough to keep Zayn warm as he walks from the library, past the row of fraternity and sorority houses, back to his dormitory.

“Zayn!”

It's Liam's voice and Zayn rolls his eyes, turning around to see Liam jogging towards him, clutching something in his hand.

His phone.

“You forgot it,” Liam says, and he's wearing a soft smile, like he wants a truce while Zayn is drafting up plans for battle. It’s not fair that Liam can look this adorable while Zayn is so badly trying to squash all remnants of any kind of attraction to him. How agitating.

“Give me a week.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Give me a week,” Liam repeats. “Seven days. Just come hang out with us and let me show you what we do. Please? If by the end you still hate us and everything we stand for, then I won't stand in the way of your petition. Just let me show you.”

“A week?” Zayn asks. “That's it?”

It's a good argument. Seven days and he can meander around hungover college kids and make a list of all the reasons Greek Row shouldn't continue.

Nodding, Liam reaches out his hand to touch Zayn's arm. Zayn doesn't brush Liam off.

“Alright, fine. One week, Liam. And I'm not easily amazed, so I hope you've got something interesting to show me.”

Laughing, Liam rescinds his hand from Zayn's forearm and shakes his head. “I think you underestimate us, honestly. But just you wait.”

Zayn doesn't say anything to that. He's already agreed to Liam's proposition; all that's left for him is to go home, get a nap in, and fight grogginess to get started on this essay.

It's going to be a long week.

-

tuesday.

After Zayn finishes his last class of the day, he ambles towards his dorm where he just wants to catch a couple hours of sleep, but he remembers Liam's words; they weigh him down, like a promise begging to be kept, and while he's going on just a few hours of sleep from the night before and several cups of tea, he sucks up his petulance and drops his things off at his dorm. He's got a half a million things he needs to do, rather lose himself in renaissance art and a tightly rolled spliff, but instead, he changes into a better pair of jeans and tugs the beanie from his head to fix his hair. For no particular reason, really, but he fusses with it for too long, and uses too much product, but it'll do. He grabs his jacket from the end of his bed and leaves, locking the door behind him.

The path down to Greek Row is beautiful, planted with shrubbery well maintained. There are a few gardens in the yards out in front of the houses, but autumn is descending and they don't look as lively as Zayn knows they would in the spring.

It’s fairly quiet all around, desolate almost. The sun is gleaming, bright and glowing gold over the rooftops. Sororities on one side, fraternities on the other. There’s a difference in decoration, a definition between masculinity and femininity, which is unnecessary, but Zayn just rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

The house at the end of the cul-de-sac is the largest. It’s Liam’s house, three stories of—

The thing is, he’s heard things, _terrible_ things about frat houses. Hazing and bullying and the lengths at which people will let themselves be abused just to be a part of a brotherhood that may as well proclaim they stand for Bad Things. He knows what happens at the kinds of parties they throw, where people turn blind eyes to drugs and kids barely eighteen puking up their insides all for the sake of fitting in. Disregard for manners, for being polite. And someone like him, someone who stands out because the color of his skin, because he likes to kiss men; just the thought of being around these kinds of people is enough to send Zayn breaking out into hives.

There are a couple of girls in scarves and university branded sweatshirts lying out on the grass, laughing as they look at the small screen of a phone, sharing ear buds. Zayn doesn’t look at them for too long, looks down at his feet instead as he walks up the stone steps outside of the house. The door is wide open, so he doesn’t bother to knock.

There are a few kids on the floor in the den, scattered papers all over—studying; he’s familiar with the tense look on their faces, the way their foreheads scrunch up.

“You came!”

The voice steals his attention, and Zayn finds Liam walking towards him. He’s wearing one of those snapbacks, a tank top, and sweatpants, barefoot against the elegant hardwood floors. Zayn looks up at Liam’s face, red cheeked and smiling, exuding the kind of friendliness he’s not used to.

“Yeah, I said I would,” Zayn says, keeping his voice even.

“Can I show you around? Let you meet a few of the guys. Help yourself to whatever, whenever,” Liam says, voice soft, like Zayn might be frightened.

Without receiving a response, Liam sighs and gives Zayn the tour, through the hallways and out through the kitchen, upstairs where there’s a quaint library filled with books and a few desktop computers that are occupied with more students. Deep in study.

Zayn hates that he’s so surprised by it. Figured they’d be playing games or rough housing. He won’t say he’s amazed, not yet, but he has a bad feeling he’s wrong.

“I fixed up a room for you. One of the brothers transferred at the beginning of the semester, so we had an empty spot. The whole experience, you know?” Liam says, grinning, leaning against the doorway to a bedroom that looks just a little bigger than his dorm, but impersonalized. Empty.

“No. That—look, Liam. I’m giving you a chance to ‘let you show me’ or whatever you called it. I’m not going to live here; I’m not going to be a part of _this_.” Zayn knows his voice is serrated, maybe a little harsh, but when he looks back at Liam, Liam tugs on the hem of his tank top, looking down at the floor.

“You don’t really sound like you’re giving us a chance. If you don’t want to do this, I’m not forcing you to stay. I just want to show you that we’re not as bad as you think. If you don’t want to be here,” Liam says, standing up straight, strength radiating from his body, “the door is just as open as it was when you came. You can leave any time.”

Zayn lets his posture fall lax, looking down. “Alright. Alright, I’m sorry. I just want to get this done, okay?”

“Okay,” Liam says, nodding.

“So when does the party start?” Zayn asks, his voice snarky, picking up a book from the bedside table, flipping through the pages. He doesn’t recognize the title, or the author; he wants to peer inside and find out if it’s something he’d like to read, but Liam’s words surprise him.

“What party?”

Shrugging, Zayn sits on the edge of the bed. Liam keeps his distance, leaning against the doorway, looking warm and comfortable. The red in his cheeks has subsided; there’s facets of gold in Liam’s skin, making him look extremely soft.

“Zayn. Honestly, we don’t party every day. In fact, it’s Tuesday. Most of the upperclassmen have a few games of footie out in the back yard, while the rest of the kids come home from classes. Some help with dinner, some set the table, and then most of us have dinner. Then there’s tutoring and study groups for a few hours, and movies for the rest of the night, really.”

Embarrassed, Zayn places the book back onto the bedside table. “Oh.” He doesn’t look up at Liam at all.

“We’re not bad guys, Zayn. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I just want you to see that we’re not out to get you. Like you said; people pay buckets of money to come here. Most of us take that seriously.” Liam leaves the doorway, and Zayn feels the chill of being completely left alone.

He knows he’s upset Liam; that much is obvious, when he can hear the pleading tone of Liam’s voice just asking for a chance.

The sound of his boots against the floor echoes in the emptiness of the bedroom. Zayn decides he should pack a few things to fill it up.

-

Observant, ever a wallflower, Zayn watches from the corner of the room. Liam’s well-liked by his peers. He was voted president, Zayn knows that, and Zayn has no idea how fraternity politics work, but everyone liked Liam enough to vote him into leadership. It’s apparent, when the tinier, skinny freshman show Liam things, papers with high marks and pat him on the shoulder as greeting, and someone’s shouting at Liam to set the table, and Liam’s face lights up and—

Zayn feels really bad at this point; the petition was just out of pure malice, selfishness, because he’s tired.

_These houses save some of these kids._

If Zayn lets that petition gain enough momentum, gain enough attention, Zayn wouldn’t be taking away noise and parties and all the other bullshit he thought he was. He’d be taking these safe little places for these kids.

It’s been a handful of hours, and already, Zayn can hear the echo of the most cliché phrase ever spoken.

_Don’t judge a book by its cover._

The thing is, Zayn had walked into this house, not expecting it to come together like this, where everyone gravitates towards each other, like a family. He’d walked into this house with a completely different perception; Liam’s done nothing but be himself the entire time. Zayn won’t apologize, not yet. He wants to be amazed, and there’s a bright, warm feeling in his stomach that tells him he’s got quite a bit to look forward to.

-

Dinner is a slew of different meals made to suit everyone’s tastes. They’ve taken into account simple things; vegetarians and vegans. They’ve made sure to keep foods separate based on foods allergies. The kitchen is a mess, but everyone is laughing and happy.

There are two long tables in the dining room, reminding Zayn of a smaller version of the Great Hall, and everyone sits down with their plates, in places it seems they’ve sat before, and Zayn’s a little out of place, like the new kid with no friends at the lunch table.

“Usually,” Liam’s voice says, gentle from his right, “I sit up at the head of the table with the rest of the officers, but I thought it might be nice to eat out on the deck.” Liam wears a soft smile, lips pink and dark brown eyes filled with light and mirth. Liam’s in his element, Zayn knows, Liam’s comfortable here. Zayn nods, following Liam with his plate and bottle of water outside, to sit at the table while the sun sets and the sky is a watercolor portrait of light baby blue and orange hues, meeting in the middle to color the sky gold.

It’s silent for a while, just the two of them. Zayn can hear the muted cacophony of a million voices coming from inside, but sat here with Liam, it’s almost peaceful.

“To be honest, this is me giving you a chance, too,” Liam says, leaning back in his chair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn says, narrowing his eyes, placing his fork down on his place. His stomach flops nervously.

“I mean, I always thought you were one of those pretentious art hipsters, you know? That kind of type, with your cigarettes and leather jackets and shit. Always so quick to judge, to get defensive. And I’ve barely spoken with you, a few words here and there, and you _were_ kind of mean this morning. I’m giving you a chance to show me who you are underneath all that, too. You can’t be all scowls and big words and a cranky attitude,” Liam says, not looking at Zayn at all, focused on the sky over their heads, as the light dims slowly.

There’s not much Zayn can say in reply. In all honestly, he had been mean. Rude. Presumptuous. He knows that now, but he never counted on Liam calling him out on it.

Ignoring Liam’s outpour, Zayn says, “I thought I’d go home tonight and bring a few things. Figured I may as well stay to make the experience as authentic as possible.”

There’s something to be said about the sun. It’s a light source, showering the world in golden light. It’s a constant for the most part, never hides behind the clouds for too long, even though it feels like that. It’s warm, though, gentle on his flesh, falling behind the horizon to sleep, only to rise in the morning and shine all over again.

 

“Cool,” Liam says, looking at Zayn finally, his lips curled into a smile that makes Zayn’s stomach flip again.

-

“Niall’s got that house. Good kid. Insanely smart. Like Rubik’s cube solving smart. Although some people might argue that solving a fucked up cube is a magic trick, but it’s all mathematical, and Niall’s, like, a math genius. Could also drink you under a table, twice over, and not a single wobbly step. It’s the Irish in him, he says.”

Zayn smiles.

Listening is easy; Liam’s voice is soothing almost, even though he talks quick, with that midlands accent of his. Zayn encourages Liam to speak, asking about the different houses.

“Louis’ got that one. It’s the second biggest, has the most kids. They mostly don’t care about much, but they’re a clever bunch. Sometimes they skip loads of classes to attend protests and stuff. They’re hardcore in the way a lot of us don’t have the courage to be.”

Walking close enough, their arms brush, Zayn shivers.

“Cold?” Liam asks. Zayn shakes his head.

“And the girls? Are you guys civil with each other? Or is it always boys against girls?” Zayn wonders aloud. Liam laughs, just a soft chuckle, looking sideways at Zayn. His eyes are so bright, even in the darkness of nightfall.

“No, we’re totally civil. Leigh and Jade, president and VP respectively, they do loads of fundraisers for loads of charities. Most of them are for women and kids. They do a lot of good work. In between dance and, like, etiquette lessons, which is kinda silly, cause the girls are perfect as they are. Jesy’s got that one at the end. She’s hard on her girls, but she just wants a place to get the girls through college as safely as possible.  She’s really funny, super nice, real strong. Perrie’s Jesy’s VP. She puts on the talent show at the end of the year and donates all the money so high school girls can get prom dresses.”

Hearing it doesn’t baffle Zayn as much anymore. At this point, Zayn is already used to being astonished, to being told he’s wrong about his perceptions about the people he thought were rowdy, rule breaking, children.

“Do you have a vice president?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah. Well. I mean there’s more than just a VP. There’s loads of positions; and you sort of keep a position after you graduate and it’s kind of intense with all the rules, but it works.”

“It sounds like it,” Zayn says with a chuckle.

“Amazed yet?” Liam asks, as they reach Zayn’s dormitory, which seems so boring now that he’s experienced Liam’s frat house.

Zayn grins in response, but doesn’t confirm or deny.

“Well, I’ve got six more days,” Liam grins. “I’m gonna have a smoke so I’ll wait for you down here.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Up three flights of stairs, Zayn unlocks his dorm to find it empty. It makes him a little sad, coming home to no one, when he knows there are houses teeming with people building long lasting friendships; maybe being alone in the quiet isn’t what he wanted at all.

It only takes a few moments to grab a few pairs of jeans, underwear, t-shirts, books, and his phone’s charger cord, and stuff it all into his bag. Just as he’s walking out of the door, he remembers his toothbrush and doubles back for it.

Liam’s waiting downstairs, leaning back against the cement wall, cigarette dangling from his lips while the glow of his phone casts over his face. Zayn doesn’t know what compels him to sneak up, but he toes quietly over to Liam, snatches the cigarette from Liam’s mouth and inhales his own drag.

“Coming, mate?” Zayn asks, already walking towards Greek Row, hearing the quick pitter patter of Liam catching up to him.

wednesday.

It’s the smell of food that really wakes him. There’s been a few knocks at the door, which he effortlessly ignored; having been up all night for his paper didn’t make for an early morning. Staring up at the ceiling Zayn debates on whether or not he should just roll over and fall back to sleep, or give into the knocking at the door.

When Liam pokes his head in, Zayn’s a little disappointed in himself for giving into wakefulness so easily.

“Hey, you missed breakfast, but we’ve got lunch going on if you wanna come down.” Liam smiles, lingering a bit, like he’s waiting for Zayn to show any sign that he’ll come down.

“I’ll brush my teeth and be right down.” Zayn says, eyes still a bit bleary, but with an effortless smile that Liam seems to take with him as he closes the door and leaves Zayn in his solitude.

Stretching his body, Zayn groans and lays there, like he’s having a hard time fully waking up. Which, granted, happens every morning. When he gets out of bed, he goes to the window first, pulls back the neutral colored curtains to look outside. The weather is beautiful, the remnants of summer still clinging to the earth while the sun glimmers over the campus. Zayn can’t remember any morning looking this beautiful from the window of his own dorm.

The notifications on his phone are sparse when he checks them. There’s one from his sister, another from his mother, and one from his roommate.

Griff studies entirely too hard; Zayn’s seen him a handful of times since the semester has started, and Zayn knows he’s double majoring on top of a part time job. Zayn always feels bad for being tired when he doesn’t work nearly as much.

_Didn’t see you last night. You alright?_

Sighing, Zayn replies with _yeah, just staying with a few friends_ and tosses his phone onto the bed as he shuffles through his bag for his toothbrush, before remembering he’d left it on the desk tucked into the corner of the bedroom.

After showering and changing his clothes, Zayn doesn’t bother to do much with his hair, especially because it’s his day off from classes and work. A pair of skinny jeans and an old batman t-shirt suffice as he descends the staircase, the noise level becoming louder.

In the back yard there’s a cluster of people, all with paper plates, red solo cups, and there’s music playing, even though there’s a few guys with guitars in the corner. There’s a footie game going on, and a couple girls, from the sororities he guesses, on blankets on the grass, painting each other’s toenails, bikini tops out and heart shaped sunglasses reflecting sunlight on.

It’s never this free on campus, Zayn realizes. He might be developing a soft spot for these kids, kids like him, only they seem to be able to figure out a balance between school and play, where Zayn is way too busy taking things too seriously. He’d grown up in a house that was busy most of the times, someone always coming and going; he thought university would give him the peace and quiet he craves, yet, every day, he moved forward to the realization that he missed the bits of commotion that gave his life an interesting kind of spark.

Looking around, Zayn spots Liam in the corner, standing with a few other guys he’s seen before in passing or in classes, but has never quite formally met. Zayn doesn’t immediately head over; he isn’t desperate, has learned that being alone for a few moments, especially after just waking up, does him a little bit of good. Instead, he goes back inside.

“I’ve not seen you before, and honestly, with a face like that, I’d remember if I had.”

The first thing he sees is a mass of curly hair, wild and untamed. She has red tinted lips, not from makeup, but something like punch or a red popsicle. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m just visiting,” Zayn says to her, smiling. She’s beautiful, in a modelesque way, a little bit untouchable, kind of unreal the way she glows under the muted light of the kitchen.

“Yeah? Who? One of the girls? Or one of Liam’s boys?” She says, readdressing her attention to the tomatoes she’s cutting up.

“Liam himself, actually.” Zayn leans over the counter, picking one of the tomatoes from the pile of square chunks on the cutting board. She’s quick to dart her hand out and tap the back of his hand, reprimanding him.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she says. “Such a sweetheart, he is. Can be a cheeky little shit when he feels like it, but he’s got the biggest heart. Love that lad to pieces, honestly. If he weren’t crushing on boys, I’d snatch him up for myself.” She gives him a wink, and Zayn chuckles.

“I can see why, yeah,” Zayn agrees. “I’m Zayn, by the way. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you, Zayn. I’m Leigh Anne, president of the Sigma Delta Tau girls, also known as the lot in the back with the bikinis and nail varnish,” she says with a laugh. She scoops up the tomatoes with her hands and drops the pile into a bowl already filled with lettuce, onions, and spinach leaves.

Laughing, Zayn looks out through the glass doors through to the backyards. Serendipitously, he catches Liam’s eyes, and waves when Liam nods at him.

“Do you go to school here on campus?” Leigh asks, digging through the fridge. She’s wearing a bathing suit herself, one piece, but there are all these cut outs that show off the silky dark color of her skin. The cut off shorts she wears only serves to accentuate the curve of her waist, and the length of her legs, even though she can’t stand much more than five feet, reminding him of the statute of his sisters.

“Yeah, I’m double majoring in English and Art, with a minor in business,” Zayn says, rubbing his fingers through his still damp hair.

“Ooh, we’ve got ourselves an overachiever, haven’t we?” Leigh’s voice is teasing, and somehow, Zayn is okay with that. He likes her, more than he’ll admit, but he remembers Liam’s words from the night before, how he’d mention Leigh and her charities. It makes him think a little, about how easy it was for him to assume things about people, this group especially, filled with people he didn’t give himself the chance to know.

“If you want to call it that,” Zayn says, grinning, pushing up from the counter to round the island, and stand beside her. “Do you need help with anything? I should’ve asked before.”

“That would be amazing, actually! I’ve still got to make a couple bowls of fruit salad, so if you want to get chopping on those apples, that would be a big help.”

The music filters into the house, and Zayn hums along while he cuts up apples and bananas and tugs off grapes from the vines. Liam comes in a while later, wearing a big smile and a healthy flush in his cheeks. Zayn tries not to stare, but it’s almost impossible with the way Liam lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, showing off a gorgeously toned stomach. Almost immediately, Zayn flicks his eyes back to the cutting board, careful with the knife.

“Hey,” Liam says, reaching his hand across the island to pick at the fruit bowl. It’s almost like déjà vu the way Zayn slaps the back of Liam’s hand.

“Liam, if you’re not working, go play with your mates, yeah?” Leigh says from somewhere behind him, the tone of her voice equal parts teasing and admonishing.

“I’ve just come to say hello to Zayn, Leigh. You’re hogging him,” Liam says, and Zayn’s not looking at him, but he can feel Liam’s eyes on him. It’s confirmed when Zayn chances a look up to Liam’s face, where he can see happiness in the crinkles by Liam’s eyes.

“You abandoned him, and he asked me if I needed help, and seeing as everyone else has buggered off, I needed the extra pair of hands. You can take him if you want, though. I can snag one of the girls, given their nails are dry,” Leigh says with a little giggle.

In a lower voice, like he’s kicking Leigh out of the conversation, Liam leans forward a bit and says, “Come out with me, will you? I’ve got some friends I’d like you to meet.”

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to say no to Liam, especially when he has that intense look in his dark brown eyes. Zayn nods.

“You’ll be alright, yeah, Leigh?” Zayn asks.

She doesn’t answer, but waves her hand at him, shouting, “Perrie! Jade!” in the direction of the open glass doors. Bounding in come two girls, a pretty blonde and a brunette with pretty caramel colored hair, bikini tops and teeny shorts, much like Leigh, like they’re trying to soak up the weather before it leaves.

“Oi, what’re you shouting for?” The brunette says, and she’s got a thick accent, like Liam’s, but her voice is sweet.

Liam’s hand is warm and big when his fingers curl around Zayn’s wrist. Zayn doesn’t shake him off, but let’s Liam lead him outside, and lets the girls finish up in the kitchen.

“Doing okay?” Liam asks, and Zayn smiles, looking up at Liam.

“Yeah, fine, mate. Was helping Leigh. She’s quite a laugh, really. I like her.”

“She’s great,” Liam says, “my favorite out of the bunch, after Jade. Jade and I have been friends for a million years it seems. Couldn’t believe she was coming here, too. We only knew each other, until we started rushing for our houses, and now we live next door to each other, and I see her, like, every day.”

“Is Jade the blonde or the brown haired one?” Zayn asks.

“Oh, Perrie’s the blonde. A bit cheeky that one. A great time. Wicked when we do karaoke. All four of them are, including Jesy. Could take over the music industry if they wanted to.” Liam’s gushing, but he doesn’t seem to notice it, not like Zayn does. Liam has immense passion for his friends, insurmountable really. It’s hard to find that these days, Zayn thinks, but maybe he just wasn’t looking in the right places.

When Zayn looks back towards the kitchen, another girl has joined them, and they’re all laughing and shouting and throwing food chunks at each other. Proper friends they are, and Zayn has never felt so out of place, crowded by a bunch of people but harshly singled out. However, even then, there’s the grounding grasp of Liam’s hand still around his wrist, warm, solid and strong, but so gentle, and Zayn—

It’s been a handful of days, and Zayn can see himself here, laughing with these people, having drinks and studying with them, watching late night movies while they roam around the enormous house, and live to the fullest extent they can with each other.

They reach Liam’s little corner, where a few guys stand, cups in hand, in the middle of a story it seems by one of the smaller lads, with hair that falls over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. He waves his hands a bunch, talks excitedly, and the tallest of them, the one with the curly hair and green eyes, leans his elbow on the shoulder of a blond with striking blue eyes.

“You brought him over finally. The party killer,” the short one says, bringing his hand up smooth his hair from falling into his eyes. He’s got tattoos up the length of his arms, none of which make any sense, but they seem to suit him.

“Louis—“ Liam tries to reprimand, but his voice is almost too soft for it.

“Oi, I’m messing about, Liam. Take a break, yeah? It was a joke,” Louis says back, and the humor is still there, and Zayn smiles, not as fully as he wants to, but he manages just enough.

“Ignore him. He’s tiny and doesn’t know when to shut up, really,” the tall, curly haired one says. “I’m Harry, by the way. Liam’s had a bunch to say about you. All nice things, cross my heart. This is Niall, he’s small, too, but much nicer than Louis is.”

“I can be nice,” Louis says. “I’m nice every day. Honestly, once you get to know me, you’ll understand.”

“Hey, it’s nothing personal, I get it,” Zayn says, and he’s minutely aware of Liam’s hand still wrapped so gingerly around his wrist, sliding down to tangle their fingers together. Zayn doesn’t let go, doesn’t want Liam to let go either.

“Sorry,” Liam murmurs, turning his body towards Zayn. “I told them to be nice. Well. I told Louis to be nice.”

“It’s just those hipster artist types, you know?” Louis says, like it offers any sort of explanation to his crass greeting. “Their need for ‘peace and quiet’.” Zayn’s finding himself at some sort of crossroad; he was so sure of himself when he drafted the petition, posting it around campus, and now he’s realizing it would be impossible to shut something like this down. Not only does he not have it in him to do something so cruel, but it would hinder the university itself, its inhabitants that have made homes with the people that live in these massive houses.

“It’s alright, Liam, honestly. I deserve it,” Zayn says, smile tense and possibly awkward. He’s never been unsure of himself, but with unfamiliar eyes looking at him, like they’re expecting something of him, he feels like a fish floundering on the shore when the tide doesn’t quite reach him to bring him back under the surface of the sea.

There’s the terse strain of a smile that curls Liam’s lips, but Zayn doesn’t feel any better by it. At the end of the day, he’s only here so Liam and his chain of friends could prove a point to him. The point has been proven, Zayn understands what he’s doing wouldn’t benefit anyone, not even himself, he thinks.

It’s tense for a moment, until Harry reaches out and puts his hand on Zayn’s forearm. It’s at that point it seems like Liam realizes he and Zayn are holding hands, tightening their fingers together.

“Come on, Zayn. We can get some more drinks and see how the girls are doing in the kitchen,” Harry says, a charming grin and glittering eyes.

Liam let’s his hand go.

-

 “Okay?”

It’s Liam’s voice, Liam coming to sit by him on the sofa. Night has fallen and Harry and Niall have taken to introducing him to a handful of other people. Bright people, smart people, people with causes and ambitions, goals. Filled with excitement and exhaustion.

There’s a group of people that comes through the door, shouting and everyone greets them as they come in, celebrating the Greek names they wear on their sweatshirts.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Zayn says, smiling at Liam. “What are they so happy about?”

“Good people doing good things. Keaton, the activities advisor, took a group of kids out to work at a shelter, giving out donated clothes and supplies,” Liam says, leaning back against the sofa, effortlessly putting an arm around Zayn.

“You guys really are a bunch of do good-ers, aren’t you?” Zayn says, grinning up at Liam. “And celebrate afterwards?”

“You’re catching on,” Liam teases.

“It’s hard to look past all the yelling and screaming when I’ve got twenty page papers due and exams to study for, and there’s just loudness everywhere,” Zayn teases back.

“But you’re so amazed by it,” Liam says. “I don’t get why.”

“It’s like Louis said right? Us hipster artist types and our need for quiet. Is that completely true? Yeah, sorta, but there’s more to us than that, right? It’s just like you said, two nights ago, when we were having dinner, you know? So quick to be defensive and judgmental. And that’s all I’ve done since I’ve gotten here, right? Judge you guys, all full of surprise when you guys tell me you do things that don’t involve beer and puking into the front lawn. I don’t know what I was expecting, Liam. I really don’t.”

Zayn’s confession makes Liam smile.

 

thursday.

“Anything planned for today?” Zayn asks, sitting up on the kitchen counter with his simple mug of tea, toast already eaten. Liam stands, leaning against the island, his own mug of tea, secure in the cradle of his palms.

The smile Liam wears comes up to gleam in his brown eyes, framed by soft lashes; when Liam blinks, his eyelashes flutter, and the crinkles by his eyes almost intensify. A permanent fixture of Liam’s happiness. “We’re helping with the Play with Pets event. We’ve got two animal shelters bringing friendly animals. People can come and pet them, and sign up to adopt them if they want. That’s the goal, honestly.”

Animals; the prospect of playing with dogs all afternoon has Zayn a little excited. He loves animals, has always wished to have a dog or two, but never had the chance, never lived anywhere that would give his pups a good place to run around.

“What time does it start?” Zayn asks.

“There’s a group of freshmen setting up tents for the booths, and fences for the dogs on the main campus garden. We can head over in like an hour and a half,” Liam says, gulping down the rest of his tea. Zayn doesn’t miss the way the drink still clings to his lips, making them shine wet. Zayn looks down into his own mug instead.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping?” Zayn hops down from the counter, sets his mug into the sink.

Shrugging, Liam pushes off the island to stand at full height. “I did help. I coordinated the entire thing.”

Of course he did, Zayn thinks. “I’ll go shower and get ready, then.”

“Don’t leave without me,” Liam says. “Wanna walk with you.” Liam smiles and touches Zayn’s forearm for a fraction of a second, and Zayn is slightly frozen in place, shaking his head at himself for acting so foolish.

It’s just Liam.

-

In the shower, the water runs hot over Zayn’s skin. The house is quiet from here, when all he can hear is the sound of the sower water running, splashing against the tile floor around his feet. He leans against the wall, just for a moment, to think about the last four days; his entire world is flipped upside down.

Thinking about the sororities and fraternities, and the gentleness of these do-gooders, people who just so happen to like to have fun at the end of all the respectable things they do. Only a selfish person could want to rip that away from them. Zayn’s never been one to be extremely selfish; always taught to share, to give, to be kind. He didn’t know where he temporarily lost himself, but it’s almost scary to think four days changed him. It’s a drastic way of thinking, but making friends with people he simply didn’t know, helped see their point of view.

When he starts thinking about Liam, well, considering he’s naked in the shower, it’s a bad idea to linger. So he doesn’t, even though his body thrills with the idea of the way Liam’s so easy about everything, insanely laid back, almost exorbitantly kind to everyone he comes across. There’s also the fact that he’s sexy; Zayn isn’t attracted to the jock-type, the sporty kinds of men, but he can’t help but feel it with Liam, something burning in the pit of his stomach, tight behind his belly button whenever Liam looks at him with those dark, fire-lit brown eyes.

He turns the knob to shut the water off before he starts thinking about biceps and stomach muscles and the way Liam’s hands look like they could properly hold Zayn down against his mattress.

Getting dressed is easy. Jeans, a tshirt, his leather jacket, a beanie. He doesn’t bother with his contacts, opts for his glasses instead.

There’s a knock on his door and when Zayn goes to open it, a breath staggers and sticks thick in Zayn’s throat.

It’s like summer never really left; Liam’s skin is gold, the flesh of his arms on display when all Liam wears in a black tank top. His jeans are low on his hips, despite the buckle of his belt. When Zayn’s gaze drops, he sees Liam wearing those chunky boots, and Zayn doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“You sure you want to wear a jacket?” Liam asks. “It’s hot out.”

Swallowing thickly, Zayn sheds his jacket, keeping his eyes on Liam, and the air is charged, thick; Zayn doesn’t miss the way Liam’s flicker over Zayn’s body, eyes running up and down with ease, until Liam relaxes into a smile, eyes glittering with something Zayn can’t name.

“Better?” Zayn asks, and Liam’s smile turns into a lecherous grin, his eyes almost hooded.

“Honestly, I’d rather if you didn’t wear—“

“Liam!”

With Liam’s speech cut off, Zayn can compare the feeling that floods him with something akin to blue balls. Liam turns his attention, to some kid at the end of the hall; everyone has been wondering when Liam was going to show up.

“Go on, Tommy, I’ll meet everyone down there.”

The redhead kid, nods, smiling gently, waving to Zayn. Zayn smiles back.

“Ready to go, then?” Liam says, settling his gaze onto Zayn. Zayn feels like he could explode into a vivid wildfire.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn says, walking behind Liam’s body, for just a moment, to let his eyes fall down to Liam’s ass, watch Liam as he walks with all the confidence of the world. He’ll catch up in a minute.

-

There. Are. So. Many. Puppies.

Truthfully, they’re full grown dogs, but there’re so many Zayn truly feels like this is what any construction of “heaven” should be like.

Liam is off, commanding and coordinating, and Zayn finds himself in the middle of a green patch of grass with Harry, looking after a few pups Zayn wishes like hell he could take home. Liam was right; the weather is radiant, warm and wondrous, making him feel hazy like he could sleep underneath the beating rays of the sun.

“So how are you liking the house?” Harry asks, sunglasses shading the glimmering green eyes Zayn’s grown used to. Harry’s lips are the color of magenta, and he owns a movie star smile that reminds Zayn of old Hollywood.

“I like it a lot actually. I didn’t think I would, but it’s starting to feel less like I’m a stranger,” Zayn replies, words cool, almost like he’s asking for an apology.

“Oh, that’s cool, Zayn. Liam really likes having you around. We all do.” Harry falls back against the grass, letting the closet puppy lick over his face as he erupts into laughter. A moment too adorable too pass up, Zayn snaps a photo, keeps it safe in his camera roll.

“I like being around,” Zayn says, looking down at the photo, before shutting his phone off.

“Do you think you’ll join? There’s still time to be considered. And—“

“Me? A frat boy?” Zayn asks, incredulity swimming in the cadence of his voice. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“We don’t all wear snap backs and baggy jeans,” Harry says. “It’s a community of men who have the same goals and idealizations of what they want the world to look like in ten, twenty, one hundred years. It’s not all partying and drunk guys looking for a hookup. It’s more than that.” Harry sounds defensive, which is completely warranted, Zayn thinks, considering Zayn seems to have a habit of offending the establishment they’re so proud of.

“We’re business majors. Dance majors. Science nerds, and football junkies, and art kids. Photographers and music mixers. We’re mathematicians, and pre-law, pre-med. We’re not given a chance, most of the time. We’re not what you see in the movies, Zayn. And the sooner you start realizing that—“

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Zayn says, but Harry just smiles.

“It’s okay, Zayn. We all face a little bit of judgement. The world would be a little more peaceful if everyone was a little more open minded. I mean, Liam was the same; I remember meeting him, in one of our shared classes, and when I told him I was rushing, he looked at me funny. Had the same ideologies you do, I suppose. But look at him now,” Harry says, grinning at the sight of Liam leaning down over a dark coated Great Dane, scratching behind his ears and letting the pup nudge at his cheek. “He’s the president of a fraternity that’s been up since before our grandparents were born, working his damned hardest to keep the legacy alive, keep things in order, protect the mission that the fraternity was built to complete in the first place.”

There’s something that tickles inside of Zayn’s chest. Maybe is guilt, thick and dark and heavy, which seems most likely, but there’s also a little bit of relief. He doesn’t know why.

“What are you studying?” Zayn asks Harry, not so subtly changing the subject, but Harry seems to let it go, like he knows he’s given Zayn food for thought.

“Philosophy and art history,” Harry replies. “I’ve actually had you in a few of my classes. Hard to miss a bloke that looks like you.” Harry’s only teasing, but Zayn feels a little bad for not having noticed Harry in the first place. They could have been friends.

“Oh, well. If we have classes in the future, I’ll be sure to come sit by you,” Zayn says.

It feels a lot like waving a white flag.

“Gotta go!” Harry says, standing up, a little clumsy like, but still sort of graceful, in a fluidly charming way that seems to be Harry’s persona. “Niall’s calling me over, so I will catch you later. Bye, Zayn.”

Watching Harry walk away, reaching Niall when he runs the last bit, makes him smile. He looks away when Niall leans up on the tips of his toes to smack a kiss to Harry’s mouth.

Wandering himself, he finds the sweetest sight; here’s Liam, laughing, eyes hidden behind the rise of his pink cheeks, the crinkles by his eyes out in full force, when a whole group of puppies trample over Liam, playing with each other. Liam opens his eyes, and they catch Zayn’s and Zayn can’t help the swooping feeling in his chest, something like excitement swimming in his veins when Liam smiles at him.

“Hey!” Liam says, getting up from the ground, dusting off grass and dirt; the puppies nose around his feet but soon find something more interesting now that Liam’s attention is stolen. “So many adoptions today!” Liam says. “I even buckled down and picked up a pup of my own. His name is Watson, the big Great Dane that was loping around earlier. He’s older, but he’s so sweet. Mum took him home so he could visit a vet, just for a checkup. Even though I’m a little bit jealous she gets to keep him until next week.”

Zayn’s chest tightens. “Are you allowed to have dogs in the house?” Zayn asks, and Liam shrugs.

“Never any rules against them. And how could there be, when they’re the best animals in the world?” Liam laughs, his eyes disappearing again, and Zayn’s swimming in all these contradicting feelings, and when it occurs to him he can’t swim, he decides to let himself drown in them, let Liam rest his big, warm hand on his forearm, fall down to take his hand.

“Oh,” Zayn sighs, trying to hide his own smiles.

“Alright?” Liam asks.

With his auxiliary hand, Zayn tugs off Liam’s snap back and puts it on his own head. “Yeah, fine,” Zayn says.

Liam touches his finger to the frame of Zayn’s glasses. “I like these on you.”

Smiling, Zayn cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Wanna grab some lunch with me?” Liam asks.

“Just us two?” Zayn’s stomach swoops again, when Liam nods. “Okay, yeah.”

The freshmen are due to clean up, after Liam says goodbye to the representatives of the shelter. Liam takes him to one of the little shops just outside of the campus, a little hole-in-the-wall place that sells sandwiches so good he could eat them for weeks and never tire of them.

They’re seated in a booth, across from each other, and with their drinks, they wait for their sandwiches to be ordered.

Liam people-watches. Zayn watches Liam.

He’s interesting, gentle, even with the strength obvious in the muscles of his arms, the size of his hands, the certain sound of his voice. He’s beautiful, too, even underneath gaudy fluorescent lights; brown hair and eyes to match. A little mole on his cheek, almost shrouded by the hair of his neat beard, lips like cotton candy. He’s pretty, with that birthmark stained over his throat, and Zayn thinks over what Harry’d said earlier, thinks about Liam—

“Have I got something on my face?” Liam says, his voice cutting through Zayn’s reverie.

“No, I just zoned out, sorry,” Zayn says, feeling heat in his cheeks. He’s never been this shy, never, not when he knows what he looks like, when people throw themselves at him for some strange reason, but here he is, sat across a man that makes him feel like he’s fourteen and inexperienced and _shy_.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Zayn can’t very well say he’s thinking about Liam, Liam and his face and his arms and his everlasting sweetness. “My essay. I know, that’s—“

“No, no, it’s alright,” Liam says. “We can finish up here, and I’ll leave you to study. I’ve got my own paper I’ve been putting off.”

“We can—“ Zayn clears his throat, “we can study together, if you don’t mind.”

Liam’s smile reminds him of the sun again, or the glint of the moon in the middle of the night, soft and gentle, a warm light. “Yeah, that would be great.”

“What exactly are you studying, Liam?”

“Oh,” Liam says, swirling his straw in his soda, smiling softly. “I’m studying animal science. I want to be—“

“A veterinarian. That’s actually really cute. And very fitting.”

Liam shrugs. “I just really love animals. Want to help them. Maybe open my own clinic or something.”

And it’s this right here, with Liam smiling like that, where it touches the edges of his eyes, gentle and gorgeous and bright, that makes Zayn smile, too.

friday.

It’s a freshman that tells Zayn where he can find Liam. Second floor in the weight room, and Zayn’s tired, staring at words and comprehending lengthy passages of text from ancient books and consolidating the ideas combined with his own thoughts into twenty pages. He’s almost done, but if he has to keep staring at the screen of his computer, he’s sure his eyeballs are going to melt out of his head.

The sound of a swift _thwap_ reverberates in the hall. There’s an open door at the end of the hall, and Zayn follows the noise, into the room where it’s a wide, open space, filled with all kinds of work out equipment. Zayn can see Liam towards the back of the room, diligently hitting a punching bag with fists wrapped in tape. Leaning against the doorway, Zayn watches for a moment, the skilled movements of Liam’s body, the way his muscles flex; his face is dripping sweat, his shirt soaked through, and he keeps going. It’s as mesmerizing as it is sexy, the focus in Liam’s brow, the little grunting noises that shamelessly reminds Zayn of headboard knocking, mattress creaking, hip-bruising fucking.

“What’d the bag ever do to you?” Zayn says, grinning, keeping his eyes on the way Liam’s lips curve into a smile when he drops out of his defensive stance, reaching out his arm to stop the bag from swinging.

“What are you doing here?” Liam asks, unwrapping his fists from the tape, flexing his long fingers.

“Harry came by the library and asked if I was coming to dinner. You knew I was,” Zayn says.

Liam doesn’t say anything, just steps closer to Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t say anything either, just reaches out his hand to wipe away a bit of sweat glistening on the apple of Liam’s cheek. It doesn’t make a difference, no, but it does invite Liam in closer, to crowd Zayn’s space and coerce Zayn to walk backwards, until he’s pressed up against the wall. Liam’s really close and he smells like sweat, faded cologne, and it’s invasive, makes Zayn feels a little lightheaded.

 

 

 

Their foreheads touch, and Liam’s hand is warm against Zayn’s cheek, breath hot over Zayn’s lips. It’s soft, for a fraction of a second, when their mouths press together, both of them exhaling, until Zayn sucks in a shallow breath when Liam pulls back and kisses Zayn again.

It’s a little frantic; Zayn reaches up his arms to curl them around Liam’s neck, and Liam sets a hand firm against the bottom of Zayn’s spine, pressing their hips together.

“Dinner’s ready!”

They pull apart, but not entirely, just enough so they aren’t tangled in a kiss. Looking over his shoulder, Zayn sees Harry and his curly hair, flashing his teeth in a wide grin.

“Am I interrupting?” Harry asks, still standing there, like he knows he’s being a nuisance.

“What do you think?” Liam says, smiling between Harry and Zayn, brown eyes lingering on Zayn for a moment, before walking away. “I’m gonna shower really quick and I’ll be at the table alright?”

Zayn’s not sure if Liam’s talking to him or to Harry, but the way Liam looks at Zayn tells him this isn’t exactly over. Just a quick pause. And that could be dangerous, because Zayn wasn’t looking for a lover when he came into this house with his dubious regards towards uncivilized students. And yet.

He isn’t exactly bothered by the fact that he wants Liam in his bed tonight.

-

After dinner, in the den, there’s about thirty people crowded around the flat screen on the wall. Harry sits to Zayn’s left on the couch, and Liam had begged off watching the movie to get some studying done. Despite the wash of disappointment, Harry keeps him company. Zayn would’ve rather have been cuddled up with Liam on the couch, instead of sitting a respectable amount of space away from Harry.

In the middle of it, Zayn gets up and finds himself outside, sitting in the grass as he smokes, staring up at the sky. Greek Row has the best view, out in a clear field, where there isn’t much obscuring the view of the sky. The stars are bright, glowing, and the moon is but a sliver of a crescent, fighting to shine brightly.

Zayn feels _home_ here, and that’s a complete three hundred and sixty degrees from where he found himself just days ago. He suspects it has a lot to do with Liam, but it’s Harry, too. Niall. Even Louis and his seemingly terrible attitude, but friendly smile.

There’s a rustle in the bushes, and Zayn’s a little shocked to see Louis’s tiny frame coming from around the side of the frat house. He manages to wrestle a soccer ball from the bushes, and instead of leaving, Louis kicks the ball around the corner and abandons whatever game he was playing to sit with Zayn.

“Hey, mate,” he says, and Zayn gives a nod in return, stubbing out the last of his cigarette and blowing the smoke out in a steady stream.

“Can you make shapes?” Louis asks, grinning when he pulls a joint from his pocket, lighting the end of it with ease and sucking in a sure breath, blowing out o-shaped plumes of smoke.

Zayn grins, but he shakes his head. “Nah, never learned,” Zayn says.

Louis hums, passes the joint to Zayn, and Zayn takes a hit, lets the smoke calm him, seep inside of him and coax out the laziness. “Ask Liam to show you. He’s ace at it. Taught me how,” Louis muses.

Smiling, Zayn makes a mental note to ask Liam the next time they come out together for a cigarette. For right now, he enjoys Louis’ vibrating energy while the share the joint, like it’s sewing together the seams of two mismatched pieces of fabric, creating the beginnings of a friendship.

“You know I didn’t really mean to be rude, right?” Louis says after a while, mirroring Zayn in the way he looks up pensively at the sky.

“Yeah, you were joking. I got that,” Zayn says. And Zayn knows he was.

“Good, yeah. Just—I can be brash, but don’t take it personally. I’m mean to all my friends,” Louis teases, bumping Zayn’s arm with his elbow.

Somehow, Zayn believes Louis isn’t mean at all, just has a bruising kind of humor, like a big brother would, picking on younger siblings to get a rise out of them, just to laugh about it later.

Zayn’s always wanted a big brother.

-

The first thing that crosses Zayn’s mind when he looks at the muted glow of his phone is that it’s late. Almost one in the morning, but Zayn can't stop thinking about Liam, about that kiss they shared earlier, when Liam was sweat slick, skin hot and if they’d been there for just a little while longer, Zayn would have submitted and have done anything Liam wanted him to. Not that Zayn didn’t want to, because being alone in bed, thinking about a kiss he received from someone just down the hall, doesn’t fight hard enough against his self-restraint.

He’ll just have a peek, Zayn reasons. If Liam’s light is on underneath his door, he’ll go on and bother Liam. If not, he’ll go back to bed and try to let his breath even out enough to allow him the bliss of sleep. Either that, or wank himself to an incredible orgasm he’s bound to have.

In the hallway, there’s a few doors with lights on underneath, but the house is fairly considerate, quiet with the night.

The light underneath Liam’s door casts a soft glow over Zayn’s bare toes. He doesn’t himself wait too long to knock on Liam’s door, just plucks the courage out of thin air to do so.

Liam looks incredibly soft.

There’s sleepiness that hoods his eyes and he’s wearing a shirt that looks like one of those “I ♥ NY” shirts, except the “NY” is the batman logo. His sleep pants pool at his feet, like they’re too long for him, but it makes him look warm. Zayn feels the fatigue that had been avoiding him flood him just looking at Liam.

“Hey,” Liam says easily, opening the door wide enough so Zayn can step through.

He’s been in here before, has seen the bulletin board with the dog calendar, and the photo of his family on the wall, and the sweet as hell Pacific Rim poster opposite a full length mirror. Liam’s desk sits in front of an open window, where the moon looks down lovingly where Liam seems to be studying.

“Are you busy?” Zayn asks, stepping inside before Liam shuts the door behind him.

“I was but then I started watching funny vine compilations on YouTube,” Liam admits, his laugh almost self-deprecating.

Grinning, Zayn sits on the edge of Liam’s messy bed, watching as Liam moves the shut the lid of his computer and pulls the string to let the blinds fall over the window.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Zayn offers, not that Liam asked, or perhaps he doesn’t care, is just being nice enough so he doesn’t outright kick Liam out of his room.

“Oh, well, the house is haunted. Any creepy noises? Cool spots?” Liam says, his face stone cold for a moment before he breaks out into a smile.

Liam stands a bit away, but in front of Zayn nonetheless.

“Guess I’m just going to have to sleep here with you,” Zayn teases, smiling up at Liam, and like it’s a challenge, a dare, and Liam shrugs his shoulders.

“Not something I’d mind, honestly.” Liam moves forward, and Zayn, without taking his eyes off the way Liam stalks towards him, moves his own body up the length of the bed, lying his head on Liam’s pillows.

Before reaching the bed, Liam turns the light out, and whether they’re going to sleep is an actual question that crosses Zayn’s mind, but when the bed dips with Liam’s weight, and Liam crawls up the slim frame of Zayn’s body, it’s a question extinguished from existence. Sleep eludes Zayn, when the feeling of Liam’s hand on his waist keeps his heart thrumming too hard to even entertain the idea of sleeping.

“Okay?” Liam whispers, and Zayn nods, palms the back of Liam’s head to bring the heat of their mouths together, a kiss that ignites the gasoline-drenched candle in Zayn’s chest and lights him on fire. Liam kisses like he knows what he wants, like he could do it forever; the flick of his tongue sends a thrill down Zayn’s spine, his hot mouth careful but persistent against Zayn’s. Liam’s hand is hot against the flesh of his hip when Liam sneaks his fingers underneath Zayn’s shirt to feel, to touch, to burn Zayn from the outside in.

It’s slow, the way they gravitate to press their bodies together, Liam’s thigh slipping between Zayn’s; his hips are still, but after a long while, Zayn can feel the thick hard line of Liam against his hip.

They keep kissing though, undressing each other from the nuisance of their shirts to get their hands on each other. It’s almost innocent, or it would be, if Zayn didn’t feel the vibration inside of him, the want to undress Liam from the rest of his clothing, feel the entirety of his body against his own. Zayn runs his fingers through Liam’s hair, keeps him close, even as Liam’s hand falls down the curve of Zayn’s back, over his ass and then the back of his thigh, just to hitch Zayn’s leg over Liam’s hip.

With little restraint left, Zayn manages to push Liam onto his back, climb his way over Liam’s thighs; his knees are pressed in close on either side of Liam’s hips, and looking down at Liam, Zayn wishes Liam had left the light on, wishes that he could see the kiss swollen pout of Liam’s mouth. Instead, he leans forward, catches Liam’s lips with his own for just a moment before he leaves the heat of Liam’s mouth for the sharp line of his jaw. He sucks a mark, listens to the little whimper that Liam gifts the quiet air, just a soft sound that Zayn can’t help but react to, just a quick shift of his hips over Liam’s, so hot; Liam’s hands grasp at Zayn’s hips, and Zayn busies his mouth, his tongue, laving over Liam’s throat with a lust-fueled voracity.

“Again,” Liam whispers, hands shifting from the bones of Zayn’s hips to cradle his ass, pulling Zayn into a rhythm that makes Zayn find Liam’s mouth again. Zayn drags his hips, assisted by the firm grasp of Liam’s hands, and Zayn can’t help but break the kiss, just to catch his breath enough to gasp out Liam’s name, hands on Liam’s chest, feeling the steady, quick beat of Liam’s heart underneath the palm of his hand.

“God, don’t stop, don’t—“ Liam begs, arching his back underneath Zayn’s weight, leaning up on one elbow and pulling Zayn down for a kiss with his auxiliary hand.

There’s the blare of an alarm, the both of them freezing on the bed, the creaking of Liam’s mattress quieted by the raucous noise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Liam mutters, and Zayn sags against Liam for a moment, before the two of them break apart, hurriedly locating their discarded shirts, leaving Liam’s room, and it’s a little awkward, but Zayn’s erection dies fairly quickly, even though he can still feel the heat of Liam’s body against his own. Liam doesn’t hesitate to tangle their fingers while they walk outside, in a throng of people.

It’s not cold, but Liam stands behind Zayn, holding him around his waist, while Zayn leans his head back against Liam’s shoulder.

“If I wasn’t so tired,” Zayn says, “I’d be so angry, right now.”

Liam’s laughter is a huff of breath against his neck, when Liam leans in close to press a kiss to Zayn’s cheek.

“No sense in being angry. If you’re patient I don’t think it’ll take much to work us back up,” Liam whispers. Zayn hates the way his body betrays him, shudders at Liam’s words.

It’s a while before they’re cleared by the fire department to walk back inside. No fire, just a faulty alarm, which annoys Zayn even more, considering what he and Liam were in the middle of.

While they’re walking back inside, someone calls Liam’s name, and the two of them stop in the middle of the front stairs, still holding hands.

“What’s up?” Liam asks, gentle kindness on display.

The guy; Zayn doesn’t know his name, hasn’t seen him before, but he doesn’t regard Zayn with any politeness.

“Isn’t he the guy that made those petitions to try to shut down the frat houses?” he says. Zayn feels himself go a little cold, and Liam looks at him, with sad eyes.

“It was a mistake, Joey. Right, Zayn?” Liam asks, like he’s hoping, because Zayn hasn’t really said he’d stop the petitions, but that was the agreement. That’s how Zayn wound up in Liam’s bed in the first place.

Before Zayn can open his mouth to speak, the kid, Joey, speaks over him.

“Are you sure? He’s not just taking advantage of you being nice?” Joey says, anger tinging his words as he looks down where Liam’s still holding onto Zayn’s hand. Zayn wants to recoil but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Joey, it’s two thirty in the morning. Let it go,” Liam says, turning away from Joey, tugging Zayn along, and Zayn follows, but because he can’t help himself, he looks behind him, to see Joey shaking his head.

Liam must know that this is genuine, that whatever Zayn is feeling are actual, true emotions. Liam doesn’t say anything as they bound up the staircase, but Zayn wonders if Liam’s a little bit ashamed, called out like that.

In the hallway to their bedrooms, Liam rescinds his hand, and Zayn’s left a little cold. They’re standing in front of Zayn’s bedroom, which is a few doors before Liam’s own, obvious that Liam’s dropping him off. Like dead weight.

“I’m just gonna go to bed,” Liam says. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” Liam looks at him, with gentle eyes, but guarded, unlike before, when the vulnerability was tangible.  

Zayn’s gonna find that Joey kid and squash him like a bug.

“I—yeah, of course,” Zayn says. “Good night, Liam,” he says, and Liam smiles softly, leans in to kiss the corner of Zayn’s mouth, but Zayn doesn’t give him the chance to pull back, not when Liam presses his hands against Zayn’s waist, and Zayn curls his arms around Liam’s shoulders.

They kiss for a moment, not at all desperate like earlier, but soft, sweet, a little echo of want, but not enough to build heat. It’s just a subtle warmth, a comfort, being in Liam’s arms like this.

“Come inside with me,” Zayn murmurs. “Just to sleep. Please?”

Sighing, Liam nods, and Zayn opens the door to his bedroom, pulls Liam inside along with him.

As promised, Zayn shuts the door behind them, leads Liam to the bed where they climb underneath the comforter and Liam isn’t far away; Zayn’s tucked into Liam’s chest, with Liam pressing soft kisses alongside Zayn’s neck, just little gifts that Zayn wants to save. Liam’s arm is heavy over Zayn’s waist, but it’s a welcomed weight, like it’s anchoring Zayn down.

Like this, Zayn finds sleep easily.

saturday.

In the morning, when Zayn’s eyes flutter open, he blinks his eyes a few times, and stretches his body. After a moment, it occurs to him that he’s in bed alone, and the feeling of the cool sheets to the right of him tells him he’s been alone for a while.

There’s a feeling of guilt, strong, a burn of anger, a wave of sadness.

Truthfully, he can’t fault Liam for not trusting him. Maybe it’s a bit of a romantic notion to think this would all run so smoothly considering the grounds this was built. Zayn hated the very idea that this house even stood, and here he was now, comfortably tucked away in one of the house’s beds.

It’s not immediate that he goes looking for Liam.  It’s Saturday morning so he doesn’t have any classes, or anything planned to do, and he doesn’t let himself dwell on the fact he woke up alone. He’s not happy about it, but if Liam wants space, Zayn can give it.

After his shower, he gathers up his things, makes the bed, and goes back to his dorm room. Griff, for all the miracles in the world, is there, and he isn’t alone.

The girl he’s with is pretty, wearing a sweatshirt with the brand of their university over the front.

“Just dropping off a few things, and I’ll go,” Zayn says with a smile, depositing his book bag on his bed, and leaving the dorm, the door clicking softly behind him as it closes.

There’s no other place to really go. He doesn’t want to be in the fraternity house, and while he could go for a nap, he’s currently put out. With his laptop in hand, he treks off to the library to work on his art history paper, sitting at one of the tables in the back of the library.

It’s impossible not to think about Liam. And maybe it’s kind of silly to care so much; Zayn can count the days that have passed on the tips of his fingers all on one hand, but that doesn’t stop Zayn from feeling this way about Liam. From changing his perspective on everything and shoving all these emotions inside of his heart and—

Staring at the screen of his computer, he knows he won’t really be able to concentrate, not until he goes and talks to Liam.

-

Lunch is a muffin and tea from the campus coffee stand, where he recognizes Jesy, and her eyes alight and bright, beautiful in fishnets, shorts, and black turtle neck.

He meanders, calls his mum, chats with his sisters, makes his way to the library again, where Ned, the librarian on duty, stashed his laptop behind the counter so he didn’t have to carry it around with him.

There’s a familiar blonde head of hair sitting at his usual table. He’d rather it had been Liam but it’s Niall instead, with his cerulean blue eyes. Zayn sits opposite him, Niall looking up from the text book in front of him, going as far as to shut it closed.

Zayn finds that Niall is probably the definition of frat boy, if it wasn’t for the glasses and the undeniably, unfathomable intelligence. Liam did say he was a genius, but it’s almost crazy, how small Zayn’s brain feels in his head when he talks to Niall. And yet, there’s this playfulness about him, how he’s friends with everyone, everywhere, laughing at other people’s jokes when he’s not cracking jokes of his own.

“How are you, Zayn?” Niall asks, his voice gentle, his Irish accent prominent. “You’ve gone and disappeared.”

“I’ve got a paper due Monday and I really need to work on it. Twenty pages and it’s not gonna write itself, mate,” Zayn says, even though he’s mostly finished, putting together a polished list of sources he’s used while he wrote it, and changing the formatting.

“Liam just asked me to make sure you’re coming to dinner tonight.”

Looking up from the scribbling he’s been doing in a notebook, Zayn catches Niall’s crystalline blue eyes. He’s smiling.

“I wasn’t planning on it. Is something special happening?” Zayn asks.

“No, no, just dinner at the house. He just wants to be sure you’re alright is all, Zayn,” Niall says, smiling kindly.

“I’m fine. If Liam wants to talk to me, he can come down here and talk to me. I’m not unreachable, Niall.”

Niall doesn’t say anything to that, just nods his head. He takes the dismissal as it’s given, and Zayn goes back to scribbling into his notebook.

-

It’s nightfall before he sees Liam. Zayn is on his way back to his dorm room, and he spots Liam, standing outside with that stupid snap back on, and his tank top and it’s starting to get cold; doesn’t he own a t-shirt? A sweater?

“Looking for me?” Zayn asks, and it’s possible he’s presumptuous, but when Liam looks up, his eyes are soft.

“Yeah, actually,” Liam says, pushing off the brick wall of the dorm building, shoving his hands into his front pockets. “Missed you all day.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Zayn purses his lips. “Funny, I woke up this morning, alone. Didn’t think you were the type to run, Liam.”

“I?” Liam’s brow furrows. “I actually did go for a run. I didn’t just leave you. Came back an hour later and your things were gone. Then we had council, and I realized I didn’t have your number so I couldn’t just shoot you a text. I thought you were the one doing the running.”

Sighing, Zayn shakes his head. “Well, I mean, sort of. I thought you’d left because of whatever that Jason kid said last night. About me taking advantage of you.”

Liam smiles. “I know you aren’t, Zayn. It—I thought about it, last night, thought maybe it was possible, because we barely know each other, but I thought, maybe, even if you were it would be kind of teen-movie bullshit, and I like to think you’re a lot kinder than that.”

“I am,” Zayn says, grinning, allowing himself to step close to Liam, tugging at the hem of his tank top. “Besides, I wouldn’t hurt you like that. It’s inhumane.”

Liam laughs, and leans in close. “Come back to the house with me. We’re _actually_ having a party tonight.”

Even though Zayn hasn’t been to a house party in ages, the idea of being with Liam is a lot more enticing that being holed up in his dorm room, studying notes for material he’s comfortable with.

“Yeah, alright. I just have to grab my bag, and we can head over,” Zayn says, and Liam’s smile is radiant, beaming, and so, so lovely. Zayn wants to kiss him, but decides against it. And even then, he gets what he wants when Liam presses his hand to Zayn’s waist and pulls him in for a wonderfully cheeky kiss.

-

The party is in full swing, and it’s everything Zayn thought a frat party would be. It’s loud, bass shaking the walls. There’re girls and boys and everyone in between dancing everywhere, red cups in everyone hands. There’s beer pong in one room and video games in the next, and people pour through the kitchen and into the backyard, congregating in little groups of however many people to talk and sing along to the music.

Zayn sees Leigh and Perrie, shouting and laughing over the music, Leigh waving at Zayn before going back to the conversation. Liam pushes a drink into Zayn’s hand and Zayn takes a sip, doesn’t care if they have an audience, just leans up on his toes to bring Liam down for a kiss.

The point is to have fun, and Zayn does.

sunday.

Giggling, Zayn sets his cup on the nearest tabletop. Liam is warm against his back, arm around his waist as he speaks with someone else. That doesn’t seem to last, not when Liam leans forward to press a kiss underneath Zayn’s ear. It burns, something Zayn is gently familiar with, something he’s felt before, but would like to acquaint himself with again.

Turning slightly, so he can see Liam’s face behind him, Zayn says, “Do you wanna go upstairs?”

It’s a weighted suggestion, one they both know has no notions of innocence.

Liam’s eyes darken. “Yeah, come on,” he says, and Zayn slides off his lap and onto his feet, and Liam stands behind him, walking close as Zayn maneuvers his way through the crowds of people, Liam’s hand in his own so he doesn’t get left behind.

In the bedroom, the lights are flicked on and Zayn is pressed up against the closed bedroom door, where Liam’s mouth is fever hot on his own. He can hear the lock click into place, and then Liam’s hands are ruthless, gently wandering his flesh as they press their hips together. Liam, with the strength in his arms, reaches for Zayn’s ass, pulling him up so he can wind his legs around Liam’s hips.

It’s even hotter now, Zayn running his hands over Liam’s biceps, his flexing shoulders, thankful that it’s warm enough for tank tops when Liam’s got all this skin on display for him to touch. Liam’s beard is rough against the skin of his throat, but he doesn’t care, not when the burn of Liam’s kiss flushes heat through his whole body, grinding his hips against Liam’s solid tummy when Liam busies himself making marks across the slope of Zayn’s neck.

“What do you want?” Zayn asks, in a shortened, stilted breath, groaning when Liam’s hands squeeze his modest ass.

“I wanna come inside you,” Liam says in a hot, breathy whisper against the corner of his jaw.

Zayn's hips jolt against Liam's, moaning when Liam takes his mouth in a kiss that rattles his bones.

"Yeah?" Liam asks, his voice deep and shameless. "You want that?"

"Yes," Zayn hisses, thinking about lying on his back and inviting Liam inside of him, he'd be so good for Liam, let Liam fuck him deep and hard, until his legs wouldn't allow for him to walk.

With his hands on Zayn's ass, Liam carries Zayn over to the bed, dropping him down on the sheets that smell like Liam, his cologne and his shampoo, and something else that can't be found in a bottle. Liam with a confident grin on his lips, busies himself undressing and Zayn watches. It's not a show, and Liam doesn't necessarily make it one, but there's something about watching a man undress himself that makes Zayn reach down and palm himself, where he's hard underneath his jeans. Liam kicks off his shoes, throws his snap back on the bed, and pulls off his shirt; there's dark hair covering Liam's chest, down his belly and disappearing underneath the elastic band of his underwear. He shucks off his jeans but leaves the briefs and Zayn's disappoint for a fraction of a second, before he realizes he can take them off himself.

"Been thinking about getting you naked for days," Liam confesses, crawling up the length of his body. There's a memory of this, somewhere in the back of Zayn's mind, from the night before when Liam was gentle and the quiet heat seeped deep into the marrow of his bones. Now, it's different, and while Zayn doesn't dwell on the whys of it all, he makes soft little sounds when Liam gets him out of his clothes. It's easy, arching his back when Liam's hands wander the scorching heat of his body, where he pushes Zayn's shirt over his chest, just underneath his chin to lick over his hardened nipples.

"Thinking about me on your cock, huh?" Zayn asks, pulling off his own shirt and tossing it, while Liam licks a trail down Zayn's tummy, nosing just above where his underwear sits.

"Thought about taking my time with you, all night, sucking you off while I stretch you open, listening to you whine for it," Liam says, pulling the button of his jeans open with his hands and sliding down the zipper.

"What makes you think I'd be so desperate?" Zayn murmurs, forcing himself to swallow the moan that's stuck in his throat. Liam mouths over his cock, wetting the fabric of his briefs momentarily before pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

"A hunch, really. You're always so wound up, studying so hard and busy being a good boy--it's always the quiet ones, innit?" Liam says, just before he licks a long, wet stripe over the hard, hot length of him.

With all resistance gone, Zayn can't help but whimper at the feeling of the wet heat of Liam's mouth when Liam takes him in.

"Oh my--" Zayn cuts his words off with a shudders breath. Liam's hand splays over Zayn's abdomen, stilling Zayn’s hips, and when Zayn leans up on his elbows, his vision narrows to the way Liam takes him in deep, his cheeks hollowed when he sucks up the length of his cock. Coming off with an obscene popping noise, Liam's lips are red, like cherries and strawberries.

Instead of continuing, like Zayn wants him to, Liam moves over to the side of his mattress, leaning over to dig underneath his bed. With the friction of Liam's mouth gone, Zayn takes himself against his palm, hips fucking up into the circle of his fist.

Liam’s gaze is dark when it scrapes over the lines of Zayn’s body, settling shamelessly on the way Zayn strokes himself off.

“Look at you,” Liam whispers, a kind of awe coloring the words of his voice, like whatever he’d imagined hadn’t come close to this. At that, Zayn can’t help but arch his back a little, like Liam’s words strike electricity in his veins. “ _Desperate_ , aren’t you?”

Kicking off his jeans from where they’re strapped around his ankles, Zayn isn’t shy with the way he spreads his legs, his eyes on Liam when Liam situates himself between his thighs, dropping an entire ribbon of condoms onto the bed along with a bottle of lubricant. There’s an excitement that thrills down Zayn’s spine just looking at Liam between his legs like this, kneeling, doing nothing at all but watching the way Zayn touches himself. The world doesn’t stay paused for very long, not when Liam pushes down his own briefs to take himself in his hand.

It makes his vision blur; the sight of Liam with his eyes fluttering closed, stroking his fist over his cock—he’s thick, cock a muddy red at the very tip where a dribble of precome drips. Zayn abandons himself to push his body up to his knees, palm the back of Liam’s head to bring him into a kiss, licking into his mouth as he bats Liam’s hand away so he can feel Liam hot against the palm of his hand. The sounds Liam makes into his mouth make the speed of Zayn’s heartbeat double, heart pounding in his chest. Liam pulls back, just so he can mouth at Zayn’s neck, licking over his throat and concentrating his tongue to Zayn’s skin, leaving little bruises Zayn wants so badly. A little reminder, a testament to this night, when they were this naked with each other, hot skin against hot skin. Zayn’s too impatient for the slow fervor of foreplay, only knows he wants the thick of Liam’s cock inside of him.

“Gonna get me open?” Zayn mutters, and he can feel Liam’s hips jolt into his grasp.

“Yeah, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and I’ll make it good for you,” Liam murmurs against Zayn’s shoulder. “Cross my heart.”

There’s nothing that makes Zayn think otherwise, especially when Liam situates Zayn’s body against the sheets of the mattress, face down. Liam’s gentle, even with those massive hands, blunt fingertips working slowly, deep, like he’s trying to work Zayn up when Zayn is so far gone, whimpering into Liam’s pillow cases, grasping at the sheets because he needs something to do.

He can feel how wet his is, the slick noise of Liam fucking his fingers inside of him, stroking deep, enough for now, but just a tease compared to what he knows Liam’s cock will feel like. Liam hovers over his back, kissing over the blades of his shoulders and then between, down the length of his spine with the scrape of his teeth. If Zayn bites his lip any harder, he’ll clear right through, but he can’t help it, trying to keep his voice in check, even if the music that blares through the house will drown them out.

Three fingers in, Zayn’s forgotten all about restraint, whispering, “Please get in me, just fuck me,” into the pillow where he’s got his face buried. Looking over his shoulder, though, he catches the sight of Liam, stroking the latex of a condom over his cock, wetting himself with the lube.

Their eyes meet and Zayn’s heart skips a thousand beats, feels like it stops all together, leaving him horribly breathless and desperate to feel Liam fuck into him.

Liam reaches for Zayn’s hips and tugs Zayn towards him, rather than moving up the bed to slip inside. Zayn yelps, but he laughs, with the hot feeling of Liam’s breath against his neck. On his knees, Zayn feels so heavy, working hard to hold up his own weight on the palms of his hands.

There’s a moment where Liam teases—of _course_ he does—dragging the tip of his cock over Zayn’s hole, catching slightly but not sliding in like Zayn wants.

“Don’t _tease_ ,” Zayn grumbles, reaching back with his hand to touch his fingertips to Liam’s thigh. Liam steals his breath in one fell thrust, agonizingly slow when he sinks in deep, deeper than Zayn imagined. Zayn’s fingertips clutch the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn groans, low and quiet, an almost whisper, an echo to Liam’s moan, his soft, “God, you feel so good.”

There’s a pause, a beat, just before Liam repositions his hands, one at the base of his spine and the other clutching his hip, and the beat passes and Liam’s fucking in, shallow little strokes while he’s this deep and there’s a concentrated burst of pleasure that climbs up Zayn’s back and makes it hard to breathe.

There’s no sense in trying to be quiet, not when Liam is fucking him like this, with the uncontrolled measurements of his hips, the noise of Liam’s hips smacking against his ass reverberating against the walls, the underscore to the sound of Zayn’s wrecked voice, the way Liam hisses, “yes, yes,” over and over again, like all he wanted was to be this deep inside of Zayn, like all he wanted to do was ruin Zayn on the sheets of his bed.

There’s a fire in Zayn’s chest; his cock hangs hard between his thighs and Zayn doesn’t think about touching it, not when his knees slide against the bed, rubbing raw against the sheets. He can’t help the volume of his voice, the little, “uh, _uh_ , oh my _god_ ,” that falls from his lips, when Liam slows the way his hips move, intensifies everything until he pulls out.

“ _What_ —what are you doing?” Zayn says, surprised, left hanging, a little disoriented when all the pleasure burning his skin is extinguished when Liam rescinds his entire body. Liam just laughs, and it would be annoying if Liam didn’t lie next to him, eyes bright, framed by his pretty eyelashes.

“Come on, babe,” Liam says, leaning up on one elbow. “Want you to ride me.”

Zayn’s mouth splits into a grin, and he doesn’t wait to climb over the width of Liam’s lap, knees tucked in close to Liam’s hips.

“ _This_ what you been thinking about?” Zayn asks, an echo of his teasing earlier.

“Maybe,” Liam says, leaning back against the bed, settling both hands underneath his head. It’s entirely too cocky; Liam’s entire demeanor changes when he’s naked in bed. Zayn doesn’t know if he’s like this with everyone else he’s ever fucked, but there’s something wickedly sexy about the change, how sweet and soft Liam is when he’s dressed, walking the campus with the quiet swagger he has in his step. But here, underneath Zayn’s body with his cock hard, lying against his abs, he’s different, confident, borderline arrogant, and it’s insanely hot to witness.

“Thought about you all kinds of ways,” Liam says, and his hands, warm, touch Zayn’s face, brings him down to touch their lips together. “Whether I’m fucking you or not,” Liam whispers, “I want you in my bed.”

Zayn shudders again, an intense feeling of exhilaration leaping in his stomach.

“Yeah?”

Rubbing their noses together, Liam nods. “Yeah.”

Humming, Zayn lets Liam’s kiss pass his lips for his neck, and Zayn reaches behind him to touch Liam’s cock, lower to touch his fingers to Liam’s balls, enjoying the way Liam fucks his hips up into absolutely nothing. When Zayn leans back, Liam’s cock in hand, looking off to the side gives him the sight of Liam’s discarded snap back, it's immediate, the idea that forms in his head. He lets Liam's cock drop from his hand and grabs the snap back, putting it over his head with the bill turned backwards. Zayn didn't miss the fact that the letters of Liam's last name are embroidered into the fabric of the hat, just over the strap.

Liam groans underneath him. "You're gonna kill me, Zayn, God," he says, touching his hands to Zayn's hips, licking his lips and making them wet, shining in the light of the bedroom.

"You like it? Me wearing your name?" Zayn says, leaning forward to ghost his lips over Liam's.

"Wanna be inside you, please," Liam murmurs, his tongue flicking out to lick over Zayn's bottom lip.

Zayn doesn't endure the torture; he wants Liam inside of him just as badly, and when he positions Liam's cock to sink down onto it, the both of the echo each other's moans, and Liam's body falls lax into the mattress, but the grip his has on Zayn's hips is bruising.

With his hands on Liam's chest for leverage, Zayn shifts his hips, getting used to the feel of Liam at this angle, the way he can get so, so deep inside. It burns; not the stretch, because Liam was careful with his preparation, but the way their skin touches, the feeling of Liam's body heat making Zayn's body sheen with sweat.

He rides Liam in earnest, fingernails digging into Liam's chest, until he gets the leverage he wants to use his thighs to fuck himself down on Liam's dick, relishing in the sounds that drip from Liam's mouth, dirty in a particularly pleasing way, but it's not enough for Liam. He wraps his arms around Zayn's middle to pull him down, panting into each other's mouths when Liam fucks his hips up, sinking his cock into Zayn and Zayn throws his head back, just shy of screaming from how good it feels.

The bed shakes from the vigor of their fucking; the headboard knocks against the wall and there's a fleeting thought that they'll have to move it later, because there won't always be house music to drown out the noise. It's thrilling, everything all at once, the way Liam hides his face in Zayn's collar, licking his tongue over the collar bones, over the tattoos inked in his chest; looking down he can see Liam's lips against the tattoo just against his sternum.

"Fuck, Liam, right there, right there," Zayn says, fingers digging into Liam's shoulders, toes curling, thighs shaking from the feeling.

"Yeah? Feel good, Zayn?" Liam says, the arrogance in his voice thick and Zayn nods, fuck, he loves it.

"You're gonna make me—ah, God—you’re gonna make me come."

Liam doesn't have anything to say to that, just the heaviness of his sighs, the quick, reckless rhythm and Zayn wraps his fingers around his cock, stroking shallowly, just over the head until he vibrates and shakes with an orgasm so fierce, it makes him shut his eyes tight, burying his face in the crook of Liam's neck as he groans deep, spilling wetly over Liam's chest.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Liam chants, when Zayn squeezes tight around him, and Liam's rhythm falters, fingernails harsh in Zayn's flesh, but the spark of pain makes him whimper, hips canting down to meet Liam's thrusts as Liam's comes inside of him.

Liam's hips still, lifeless against the sheets, but he whispers, "Don't stop," as Zayn's shifts his hips, slow, just enough to let Liam ride out the last shocks of his orgasm.

They don't move, not immediately, even as the sweat cools over Zayn's skin, and Liam presses his lips so soft against Zayn's cheeks.

After a while of soft kisses, Zayn moves, sliding off Liam’s body to tuck himself into Liam’s ribs. Liam curls an arm around him and Zayn tosses the snap back to the floor. With Liam laying on his side, he traces his fingers over Zayn’s arm, kissing over his forehead.

“You’re beautiful, have I told you that?” Liam says, and in the little quiet haven of the room, it feels like another confession, and Zayn takes that one and holds it in his chest.

“No, but feel free to say so whenever,” Zayn teases, mirth in his voice when Liam laughs.

“You make me laugh, too, and I love that about you.” Liam’s eyes are so brown, soft, warm, like a blanket in the winter. They focus on Zayn and Zayn feels a different kind of naked underneath Liam’s gaze.

“What else do you love about me?” Zayn inquires, tone still playful, but there’s a blatant curiosity he knows Liam hears.

“Saying ‘everything’ would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” Liam starts, and he pauses for a heartbeat’s length of a moment, his index finger tracing over the line of Zayn’s bottom lip. “You’re smart, like wickedly smart. You’re quiet, but in a good way, a way that makes me curious to get to know you. Wanna ask you questions about the things you like and let you tell me about your family and where you grew up. And you really are funny, in that sarcastic way, most times, but sometimes you can be--I don’t know. Just—you’re you. And I love that.”

It’s probably a little bit narcissistic to adore the way Liam talks about him this way, sweet words that describe Zayn in a way he doesn’t get to see. It’s warming, makes him glow from the appreciation.

“Saying ‘everything’ would have summed it up just right, babe,” Zayn says. “Cause I like ‘everything’ about you, too.”

They quiet, and it’s so easy to share the silence with Liam, no coercion to keep a dead conversation going. They’re a mess, sticky with lube and come and cooled sweat, but Zayn likes it here, in Liam’s soft bed with Liam’s body stretched out for Zayn to lay over. And Liam keeps tracing patterns over his shoulder, it doesn’t take much for Zayn to doze off, cheek pressed against Liam’s chest, the other side of where Liam’s heart is, but he can still heart the quiet beats echo in Liam’s chest.

-

It’s maybe fifteen minutes before Zayn wakes up, Liam still tracing patterns into Zayn’s skin.

“Shower with me,” Zayn says, in a voice slurred with sleep, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

Liam moves to stand, and Zayn groans when he does, looking at the expanse of Liam’s naked, sun kissed skin.

“Don’t ever put any clothes on,” Zayn mutters. “Wanna look at you naked all the time.”

The sound of Liam’s laugh carries, even as he walks away to deal with the condom, picking up jeans from the floor to pull on, tossing Zayn’s jeans to him so he can wiggle into them, still lying in bed. He’s not completely sure, and he doesn’t quite want to give Liam the satisfaction, stroke his ego any more than it has been, but he’s certain he’s going to be walking a little funny.

“Want me to carry you?” Liam asks, grinning, a hand wrapped around Zayn’s ankle as he stands at the edge of the bed. Liam’s jeans are zipped halfway, but Zayn can see the soft brush of hair right over where Zayn knows Liam’s cock is.

“I don’t want to go anymore. Just come back and fuck me again,” Zayn mutters, but that just makes Liam tug on his ankle, enough strength that Zayn goes sliding down the sheets, closer to Liam now.

“Come on, I’ll blow you in the shower or summat if you really want me to,” Liam says, holding out his hand for Zayn to take.

-

They spend too much time in the shower. The party is still going, the music loud, and no one seems to miss them. Or if they do, they don’t come looking, have good heads on their shoulders that tell them to leave the two of them alone.

Liam underneath the spray of the water is something entirely new, riveting, gorgeous in a very natural way, hair stuck to his forehead and rivulets of water sluicing down his chest and belly. For as much time they spend underneath the water, they don’t do much cleaning, just a quick rinse, spending the rest of the time kissing and holding each other. It ends, though, when the water eventually runs cold.

Towels around their waist, they make it back to Liam’s bedroom unseen, pulling on their jeans and t-shirts, going back down to the party.

There’s a subtle ache that flourishes when Zayn walks, forces him to keep his pace fairly slow, but it reignites the burn in his chest, just like catching the sight of the marks he left over Liam’s throat.

“Did Liam try to strangle you? Jesus Christ—“

The blush that floods Liam’s cheeks is radiant, and Zayn just cocks an eyebrow at Niall, grinning over at Liam.

“Just so happens,” Zayn says, “that I like it a little bit rough.”

With that, it’s like Liam’s blush disappears, and Liam’s grin is that same arrogant, cocky curl of his lips that Zayn had witnessed in Liam’s bedroom.

“Look at you, Liam,” Zayn hears Louis shout from somewhere unseen, heard clearly over the thumping music, “fraternizing with the enemy.”

Liam laughs, and Zayn does, too, feeling that floaty, dizziness of pure happiness.

“Get it?” Louis, continues, “ _fraternizing_.”

His cackle is drowned out by the music, and looking at Liam, Zayn grins. “That was a really good one, actually.”

Shaking his head, Liam tightens his fingers around Zayn’s; they find a few cups filled with fruit juice spiked with vodka, and rejoin the party.

-

At some point, throughout the rest of the night, the lot of them start to drop off into sleep after the party thins out; Harry first in a corner in the living room, and naturally, Niall follows and folds himself into the curl of Harry’s limbs. Perrie takes the couch, stretching out the length of her body, resting her head on Jade’s lap. Louis’ still gone with the lad he hooked up with earlier, and Zayn hasn’t seen Leigh’s wild head of hair or Jesy’s knowing grin for hours.

Liam is still awake, humming softly along to whatever’s playing from the stereo. Zayn’s sleepy, but not really, lax from being fucked so well but wired from the alcohol; restless more than anything.

 “Zayn?” Liam asks and Zayn turns his head to look at him, a small smile curving his lips.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Liam says by way of response, holding out his hand to Zayn when he’s on his feet. Zayn’s a little wobbly, and it makes Liam laugh and curl an arm around his waist to steady him.

They manage not to make much noise exiting the frat house to the backyard. There are still people milling about, even at close to five in the morning; Liam doesn’t seem to mind, just guides Zayn outside until they stand in front of a trampoline.

“Liam,” Zayn says, half frustrated, half amused, “I can barely walk and you want me to jump?”

Liam cackles with laughter, shaking his head as he hops over the steel bar of the trampoline. He bounces slightly, reaching out for Zayn’s hand with his own. Zayn takes it, allowing Liam to pull him up on the bouncy surface, situate their bodies until they’re sitting side by side.

“What were you going to show me?” Zayn asks, turning his head to look at Liam, take in the way his eyes glitter in the almost daylight, the way he looks at Zayn with a kind of reverence that reverberates in Zayn’s bones. Zayn curves his lips into a shy smile and Liam does the same and Zayn feels his heart pound in his chest.

“The sunrise,” Liam says simply.

Zayn watches as Liam digs into his pocket, pulling out a joint, unlit and perfectly rolled. Zayn hasn’t smoked in a while, not since he started hanging out at the frat house, but for some reason, sharing this with Liam seems important, almost. Liam lights it; Zayn watches with rapt fascination as the end glows orange, and then fades into a dark ruby red. Liam sucks in, watching Zayn, before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “I wanna try something. Can I?”

Zayn nods without thinking; he’s almost sure that anything Liam would lead him into wouldn’t be anything less than stellar. Of course he says yes.

Liam reaches out his hand, sets his hand on the nape of Zayn’s neck, pulling him close. They’re so close; Zayn’s vision is blurring as he tries to focus on Liam’s eyes. His heart is pounding so hard it’s rushing in his ears. He’s starting to think it’s just Liam that has that effect on him, makes his heart burst into a race.

It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, but Zayn watches Liam take a long drag of the joint and hold the smoke in. “Open your mouth,” Liam instructs, words tight. Zayn obliges, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. Their lips touch in a pseudo kiss, and Zayn could just tip his head forward just enough to catch Liam’s mouth properly. His lips are still that enticing color of pink Zayn doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of tasting.

Zayn sucks down the smoke Liam blows into his mouth; it tastes just the same, thick and spicy, burning a hot trail down his throat, but it’s quite lovely when Liam is so close, like Liam’s blowing the breath right into him. Liam pulls back, but doesn’t drop his hand. He’s smiling and it’s brilliant and Zayn can feel it, settling into his bones, making his weightless and heavy at the very same time.

Liam says, “Again?”

And Zayn says, “Yeah, please.”

It happens again, the edges of Zayn’s lips longing for the touch of Liam’s as he takes in the smoke; he breathes it in, lets it curl around his lungs until it’s necessary to breathe; he blows out the smoke with a cough riding at the end. Liam chuckles; Zayn runs his hand through the curly thickness of Liam’s hair and Liam let’s his eyes fall shut, lying back against the nylon of the trampoline. Zayn finds Liam looking up at him expectantly, so he falls to Liam’s side.

“Okay?” Liam asks, and Zayn laughs for a moment. It’s hard to describe how he feels, he finds, trying to wrack his brain for the right words. He finds them, maybe, looking up at the sky and the fading night, the way the twinkling of the stars dims in favor of sunrise. 

"Good. Thirsty, but I’m good here," Zayn whispers, turning his head to look at Liam. Zayn blinks a few times, like looking at Liam is akin to gazing at the sun, producing blind spots in his vision. Liam is smiling and Zayn can see the brilliance of it, the way it illuminates like a burning torch, like Liam’s responsible for the sky brightening, instead of the sun.

"Here?" Liam whispers.

Zayn nods, "Like, it’s so nice feeling like this, yeah?” Liam stares up at the sky. "It’s like—it’s like I didn't even know it could feel this good, you know? With someone. With you. It’s like, like ... I don't know, Liam. It’s just _so_ much. I just--" Zayn cuts off his speech on his own to make a figure with his hands, like an explosion.

Liam laughs and takes one of his hands, twining their fingers. Zayn feels that too, the way Liam’s skin is warm against his palm, in between his fingers, where their arms touch. Liam turns his head to look at Zayn again.

"I know," Liam says, and he smiles again, like the sun, so vibrant and brilliant Zayn is a tiny bit mesmerized by it, by the glimmer in Liam’s eyes.

"Okay, good," he whispers.

The sun rises and Zayn feels like he's floating, Liam’s grip on his hand keeping him from flying away. The sky turns red and orange and pink and it’s all so beautiful; Zayn's never seen a sunrise like this, not with so many colors he can't name, not with the feeling of freedom sitting thick in his stomach, not when Liam’s hand sits so warm in his own grasp.

"You alright?" Liam asks, his voice is gentle, raspy and rough like he'd been sleeping.

Zayn nods even though he's shivering from the cold temperature of the dewy morning. Liam disentangles his fingers and wraps his arm around Zayn's shoulder, pulling him in.

“'S alright," Liam says. "I got you, babe."

-

When they wake, the sun is almost setting and sleeping out on a trampoline has made Zayn’s body achy, but he suspects, up in his hazy mind, that it has a bit to do with what he and Liam had done up in Liam’s room.

After waking Liam, they go upstairs, shedding clothing just so they can cuddle underneath Liam’s blankets, bugging off studying in the library to share earbuds, sharing a few kisses here and there while Liam teases Zayn by changing the songs too often.

Zayn pushes Liam off the bed after Liam skips a million songs, and Liam’s laughing when he climbs back on. Zayn’s scrambling over the mattress, trying to put as much space between him and Liam, but Liam’s got his hands grasping Zayn’s shins so he can’t get away. Zayn’s breathless from laughter, still sore and achy, but his heart is pounding and when Liam sits on his lap, he’s looking down at Zayn with so much light in his eyes, Zayn doesn’t know what to do with it all.

So, he tugs on the fabric of Liam’s t-shirt and brings him down for a kiss.

monday.

After handing in his paper on the history of Renaissance art and how it influences modern day artistry, Zayn finds Liam waiting for him outside, thumbing through his phone. Zayn walks up to him, tugs on the hem of Liam’s sweatshirt. Summer seems to have cooled; Liam’s sleeves are rolled up his forearms, showing off tattoos.

“Hey,” Liam says, smiling at Zayn, leaning in for a kiss that Zayn has no problem giving. It’s easily becoming one of his favorite things to do, kissing his handsome boyfriend.

“Hey,” Zayn says. “Seven days are up, and seeing how you amazed me _and_ managed to shamelessly steal my heart, as promised I’m rescinding the petition for shutting down Greek Row. Wanna come tear them down with me?”

Laughing, Liam slips his fingers between Zayn’s. “I stole your heart?”

“Like you didn’t know.” Zayn rolls his eyes at Liam and Liam shakes his head, leading them around campus. They tear down all the all the petitions posted on bulletin boards and classroom doors, tossing them into trash bins.

“Spend the night with me?” Zayn asks, when they find themselves walking towards Zayn’s dorm.

“Don’t you have a roommate? It would be easier to just stay at mine,” Liam says. “Just go on up and grab your things. I’m gonna have a smoke.”

Zayn turns, just enough to walk away, but he turns back, looking at Liam.

“What?” Liam asks.

“Do you think this all happened incredibly fast? Like—“

“Even if it comes crashing down or goes up in flames,” Liam says, cutting Zayn off impolitely, but tugging Zayn in close by his waist. “Even if you end up breaking my heart—“

“Me?” Zayn says surprised but smiling, reaching up to pluck Liam’s snapback from his head and set it over his own hair.

“I wouldn't regret any of it.”  

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! [tumblr.](http://leighliam.tumblr.com/)


End file.
